


Through a Punch

by Lavenderaesthetic



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: College AU kinda, F/M, Let's be honest, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Losers Club (IT), Polyamory, Stan punches a man, They're like 24, and they're horny for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavenderaesthetic/pseuds/Lavenderaesthetic
Summary: This man, that Stan is internally glaring at, is standing at the bar, which is under perfectly normal lighting, so Stan can see. He’s tall with light hair, styled like douchebag with that stupid swoop that’s not even done correctly, it’s so fucking crooked but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what he looks like because he’s been staring with interest at the woman ordering drinks next to him for a few minutes now.And that woman is Beverly.--A man makes a move on Beverly. Stan's not havin' it.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, The Losers Club/The Losers Club (IT)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76
Collections: Poly Losers Club Fic Exchange Vol.2





	Through a Punch

**Author's Note:**

> AHH  
> This is for the Poly Losers Club Fic Exchange Vol. 2!  
> It was written for @iwantyourbloodonmyhands on Tumblr.  
> Enjoy :)

Even through the crowd of people, Stan can see him staring. 

The music is loud in the bar, but not blaring so loud that he can’t talk with his table companions. Even if it was, Richie would be able to drown out any noise he wanted to with his loud mouth anyway, to reach anyone at the table. However, the bass pumps and echoes through his ears and he wishes it was quieter. 

They’re all seated at a table that’s half a booth- and not a whole one because there’s no way in  _ hell  _ that Stan would squish onto a dirty leather couch in a  _ bar _ , the idea is abhorrent. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it unless maybe he was  _ already  _ drunk and neither would Eddie. So he, Eddie, and Bev chose the chairs while the other four squeezed together on the disgusting upholstery bench. 

Their table isn’t far from the ‘dance floor’- if you could call it that, Stan certainly wouldn’t. It’s a dark corner with flashing strobe lights that’s devoid of chairs and tables. Strobe lights, that he can see out of the corner of his eye that are creating an imbalance in the perception of his eyes, but not so much that he’ll get a headache. 

_ Thank god for small favors _ . 

But this man, that Stan is internally glaring at, is standing at the bar, which is under perfectly normal lighting, so Stan can see. He’s tall with light hair, styled like  _ douchebag _ with that stupid swoop that’s not even done correctly, it’s  _ so  _ fucking crooked but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what he looks like because he’s been staring  _ with interest _ at the woman ordering drinks next to him for a few minutes now. 

And that woman is  _ Beverly _ . 

Stan clutches his glass steadily, but doesn’t pick it up. Just holds it tightly against his palm, feeling the condensation from the ice inside. Mostly because it’s empty- that’s why Beverly is at the bar in the first place- but also because he doesn’t want a drink. He needs something to transfer his mild anger onto. It’s about controlling his emotions and not making a fool of himself in public because of this guy. 

_ It’s fine _ , he tells himself.  _ It’s fine. Beverly can take care of herself. This man is just looking at her _ . 

But, Jesus, who isn’t? Beverly is gorgeous. 

She’s wearing a tight green top that reveals both of her shoulders. Her exposed pale skin contrasts so beautifully with the dark green and her brilliant red hair, half of which is pulled back with two delicate framing pieces on either side of her face. Her black skirt is quite short, but it makes her legs look endless, and the large studs in her ears sparkle under the lights. She’s a truly stunning creature, and everyone knows it. 

The man leans toward her, and says something. Beverly looks over at him, slightly surprised, and smiles lightly, responding. 

She clearly doesn’t think anything of it, facing away from him again and waiting for the drinks. Probably because men,  _ and women _ , flirt with her all the time, and she lets them down gently pretty quickly. Or sometimes, she’s oblivious to it, and continues to have a normal conversation until they ask her out, which  _ then  _ she’ll decline. 

But he smiles, and it’s not a ‘oh, that’s okay, I’ll hit on someone else now’ post-rejection smile. It’s a ‘I’ve got this one’ smile. 

If Stan was glaring any harder, his eyes would probably pop back into his skull. He can feel his skin wrinkling. He can feel the permanent damage of it, the lines being embedded into the skin around his eyes. But he doesn’t let up. If he has crows feet at his ripe age of 24 then so be it. 

The man takes a step towards Beverly and it’s minuscule and subconscious but it’s still too much of a step. Stan’s hand clenches in anger and he almost knocks over his glass. It stumbles against his palm, but he catches it in a smooth motion. 

But he’s furious. 

“Stan?” Stan whips his head around to find Mike staring at him quizzically. And a little worried. But that’s just Mike. 

“What?” 

“Are you alright? You almost knocked over your glass.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure-?” 

“Aw, Mike. Don’t worry about it.” Richie pipes up. “Stan’s always had slippery fingers.” He wiggles his fingers in Ben’s face, tickling his chin, and smiles when Ben laughs. 

“C’mon, Rich.” 

“Just sayin’.” He raises his hands defensively. “We all know it’s true. That’s why we keep him around.” Richie sips his nearly empty glass, making an obnoxious sound through the plastic straw. He winks at Stan, but Stan doesn’t acknowledge him. He turns his gaze back to the bar. 

The man is standing closer to Beverly than he remembers. He probably took another one of those small steps toward her. 

He watches the man keep trying to make conversation with her. He’ll speak in longer sentences with hooded eyes and a sneer that boils Stan’s blood. She always answers with three or four words from what Stan can tell-he’s alright at reading lips, but from this angle he can’t really tell what they’re saying. He’s too angry to concentrate on something like that anyway, so he just observes in seething rage. She barely ever looks at him when she responds. He doesn’t seem to be taking the hint. 

He watches Bev shift uncomfortably on her feet, and look away from him. But, again, he takes another step closer. 

“Stan-” 

And the hand being set on his arm takes him by such surprise that this time he  _ does  _ knock over his drink. Thankfully, it was empty, but ice from the glass slides along the table, two of which land in his lap. 

“ _ Shit _ .” 

He carefully picks up each cube, placing it back into his glass. Mike unfolds a napkin and dries the trails of water left from the ice on the table while Stan pats his lap dry. After he dries the table, Mike sets Stan’s glass away from him, giving him a concerning look. 

“Stanley.” 

“You...you took me by surprise, is all.” 

“She’s fine.” He speaks quietly, so no one else will hear. 

Stan swallows. 

“I know-”

“You don’t need to be jealous.” Stan narrows his eyes. 

“I am  _ not jealous _ .” He hisses. “Of the  _ douchebag _ .  _ Flirting  _ with her. At the  _ bar _ .” Mike smiles softly, because  _ he  _ hasn’t been watching them.  _ He  _ didn’t see that man  _ flirting  _ with their  _ girlfriend  _ while she  _ obviously  _ tried to drive him off.  _ He  _ doesn’t  _ know _ . 

Stan turns towards the bar so he doesn’t have to look at his smile. “She clearly  _ doesn’t  _ want to talk to him but he  _ keeps advancing _ .” 

The man is even closer to her now, almost against her side. It looks like she had been inching away from him, but there is no room left between her and the person on her other side. 

Stan turns back to Mike, but Mike isn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze is towards the bar. His brows are furrowed in concern. 

Stan watches them again. 

The man says something with that stupid ugly smirk, one that oozes bad intentions, but she doesn’t respond. He grazes his fingers up her arm, and Stan’s jaw clenches so hard he thinks it might dislocate. 

He tries to stand but Mike sets a calming hand on his shoulder. 

“Mike-”

But Mike doesn’t respond. He keeps watching Beverly. Stan looks at the bar. 

Beverly rips her arm out of the man’s grasp. She says something that looks threatening, pointing viciously at his chest. Even from here, Stan can see the fire in her eyes. 

“Stan,” Mike says calmly. “She can take care of herself. If she needs us, she’ll-” 

Then the man grabs her arm and tugs her.  _ Forcefully _ . 

And Stan sees red. 

He vaguely hears Mike stand up with him, and maybe a confused exclamation from Richie as they walk towards the bar, but his mind doesn’t register it at first. All he can see is that man  _ touching  _ Beverly and everything sort of fades into the background. There’s only a roaring gushing sound in his ears as the music wanes out. 

And when he gets there, when he reaches the bar, his vision clears and his hearing returns. 

The relieved look on Beverly’s face makes him feel better. But it also breaks his heart. 

The man doesn’t look impressed. _ Oh, I’ll change  _ that _ , you piece of shit _ . 

“Get the fuck away from her.” Stan hisses as steadily as he can, because he is  _ irate _ . He shoves the hand off of her arm, and moves to stand in between them. 

“Dude, chill out.” The man looks over Stan’s shoulder and smiles- in a sick way that Stan cannot describe other than a dirty secret- at Beverly. “We were just talking.” 

The man tries to move around him, but Stan blocks him. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Fuck off.” The man glares at him, and tries again to move around him. Stan blocks him again, but this time, he gives a parting shove. The man looks like he’s about to return the favor, and that’s when Stan feels Mike’s presence on his side. 

“You should listen to him.” 

The man scowls at both of them. 

“Whatever. You and your _bitch_ of a girlfriend can-” 

Stan briefly registers Mike’s angered shout  _ hey  _ before there’s an intense pain in his hand, on his knuckles, and the man is doubled over, backing away from them and clutching his face. 

_ I just punched him _ , Stan realizes.  _ I punched him in the face _ . 

The man looks up at him, fire in his eyes. He looks like he wants to retaliate, but something suddenly changes and he walks away. 

_ Holy shit _ . 

He barely hears the others join them, asking Bev if she’s okay. They might be asking him, too, but he can’t hear them all that well. The adrenaline is rushing through his veins and all he can hear is his heart thumping in his chest and pumping blood throughout his body. His hand doesn’t even hurt. But he knows it will. 

The first real voice he registers, is Bill’s. 

“S-stan? Are you okay? Are y-you hurt?” 

Stan blinks and suddenly Bill is standing right in front of him, worried cyan peering at him. 

“What?” He says dumbly. 

“Are you  _ okay _ ?” 

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.” 

“Are you s-sure?” 

Stan nods. The ghost of a smile touches Bill’s lips. 

“You-” 

“ _ Stanley! _ ” Bill is interrupted by Eddie’s screech of Stan’s name. He appears in front of Bill, pushing into Stan’s space. 

“Are you  _ okay _ ? Did he hit you?  _ Let me see your hand! _ Oh my god, did you  _ break  _ it? What if you  _ broke  _ it? Does it hurt? Is it swelling?” 

Stan really only registers two of those questions. 

“I’m fine. I… I swung first.” 

“Fucking  _ let  _ me  _ see! _ ” Eddie seizes Stan’s hand by the wrist, pulling it close to his face. He studies it for all of three seconds, which would do nothing to comfort him, if he felt like he was in his body. “It doesn’t feel  _ too  _ bad. No real bruising. Your knuckles look bad though. We should get home so I can look closer.” 

Stan nods dumbly, turning to try and find Beverly, but they’re all in a close circle. She comes close to his side, with an unreadable expression. 

“I’m- I’m sorry. I know-” But she doesn’t let him finish. She surprises him- which few people do- and kisses him firmly. Her hands pull him by his shirt, so their bodies are flushed together. 

He just stands there like an idiot while she kisses him, eyes open and lips still. Maybe it’s the adrenaline but, he does not understand what the fuck is happening. 

She pulls back and smiles at him. 

“A tough guy, huh? I like tough guys.” He furrows his brow. “You’re my hero.” 

He laughs. 

“I don’t know about that.” He sets a soft hand- the uninjured one- on her shoulder. “Are you ok?”

“Am  _ I  _ okay? Stan, you just  _ punched  _ a man. Didn’t that  _ break  _ your  _ hand _ ? It sounded like it,  _ Jesus _ .” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Are  _ you  _ okay? He was being an asshole.” She beams at him. 

“I’m fine, Stan. Don’t worry.” He opens his mouth to protest, but she stops him. “He was just some jerk that’s mad cuz he was cockblocked, okay? I’m alright.” He nods. 

_ Beverly Marsh. Strong as ever. _

She takes his hand- the uninjured one. “Let’s get you home.” 

The walk to their cars is filled with questions, mostly directed towards Stan.  _ What did he say? Did it hurt? How do you feel? _ He answers them almost numbly because his heart is still pumping loudly. 

They split off into two cars, Bill’s and Mike’s. Eddie wouldn’t dare drive his car to the bar, knowing full well that any of them could have gotten plastered and vomited on the inside. If he’s being honest, Mike’s car is a piece of shit, and someone hurling in the back seat would be a wonderful excuse for him to get a new one. 

Beverly joins him in the back of Bill’s slightly beaten Ford. She opens the door for him. His hands are shaking still and he can’t grip the handle right. 

The ride is comfortably semi silent. Bill and Ben chat in the front about a drink they had that they very much enjoyed, something with orange juice. Stan isn’t really listening, and Beverly holds his good hand the entire ride home, resting her head on his shoulder. Stan can smell her strawberry shampoo, and it helps slow his heart rate. 

As soon as they get inside, Richie slings an arm around his shoulder. 

“God  _ damn _ , Stanley. I didn’t realize how strong you are.” Richie squeezes his arm and mock gasps. “I knew you were packin’, but not like this.” 

Stan rolls his eyes. 

“Stan the  _ man _ .” Richie smiles at his own humor- like always. “Stan the  _ strong _ man, here to beat up anyone who even dares, even  _ dares _ to start shit.” 

“You’re starting shit right now-“ Richie suddenly leans on top of him. 

“Oh mah stars,” Richie interrupts him, starting his southern accent. Stan  _ hates _ that accent, it  _ has _ to be his least favorite. “You’re so  _ strong _ , mister. Would you protect a helpless lady like me with your big muscles and your hot head?” 

“No.” Stan deadpans, and Richie throws his head back in laughter. Ben laughs as well. 

“Richie, knock it off.” Eddie shoves Richie off of him, taking his arm instead. “Come on, Stan. Let’s take a look in the bathroom.” He leads Stan away. 

“Don’t take my beau!” Richie calls down the hall. “Who will protect me from the big bad wolf?!” 

“Get your fuckin’ story straight!” Eddie shouts back, and they hear his laughter and more until Eddie closes the bathroom door. 

“Jesus.” Eddie opens the doors under the sink, and pulls out a basket with gauze and wrappings. “Okay, lemme see.” 

Eddie takes his hand in a gentle hold. He turns it over in his palms, tracing his fingers along the lines of it. Stan won’t lie, it feels quite nice to be touched so softly right after he threw it at someone’s face. The skin tingles where Eddie traces from the contrast. 

Eddie traces more firmly, touching and pressing his hand. And then Eddie puts pressure on Stan’s finger with his thumb and forefinger. Mild pain flashes on his knuckles and shoots up his fingers. He hisses, and Eddie asks, big brown eyes wide with concern, “Does that hurt?” and Stan nods hesitantly, like he’s guilty. 

“A little.” 

“Okay, what about this?” Eddie carefully bends Stan’s fingers one by one, starting with his pinky. Stan shakes his head Every time Eddie asks until he reaches Stan’s middle finger. When it bends, that same pain from before echoes throughout his knuckles. Stan voices this, and Eddie nods. 

“Well, it’s not broken, so that’s good.” Eddie grabs wrappings from the basket. “But we should wrap it for now since you said this one hurts. And your knuckles look better, too.” Eddie gently taps Stan’s middle digit. 

“Alright.” 

Eddie handles his hand carefully, wrapping with precision. He holds him tighter than before, since he knows where it hurts now, but it still makes Stan feel warm and cared for. 

“There.” Eddie says when he’s finished. “All done.” 

“Thank you.” Eddie smiles, leaning in close. 

“Of course.” 

Eddie’s lips meet his softly in a gentle kiss. Stan kisses him back. He hasn’t noticed until now, but his heart has slowed down considerably. He feels like he’s in his body again, instead of buzzing around it. 

It’s a short kiss, and Stan wants to deepen it until he feels Eddie pull away and poke at his chest violently. 

“But,  _ don’t _ go punching anyone else.” Eddie threatens. “Or you’ll  _ really _ hurt yourself.” Eddie pauses to chew his lip. “You  _ could _ have really hurt yourself, Stan.” Stan sighs exasperatedly. 

“I’m  _ fine _ -“ 

“I know, but-! Well, he could have been crazy or something! Or he could have fought back and beat the shit out of you! Or worse!” 

“Mike was right there, Eddie-” 

“Still. It’s scary, okay?” Eddie looks at the ground. “It’s scary. We’re allowed to be worried. I’m allowed to be worried.” 

And Stan doesn’t regret it, not even a little but because that guy definitely deserved it and  _ more _ , but the guilt washes over him. He never intended to worry the others by putting himself in harm’s way. 

He cups Eddie’s jaw, tilting his head back up. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Eddie sighs and leans into Stan’s palm. Eddie’s eyes shine up at him, warm brown glowing in the fluorescent light of the bathroom mirror. The unnatural lights don’t do them any justice, but he can still find flecks of gold in those eyes. 

“Don’t be. He really deserved it.” 

Yes, he fucking did.  _ Anyone _ who speaks to  _ any _ of his lovers like that did. But Stan won’t say that out loud to Eddie now, in fear that it will breathe uneasiness onto him. 

But Stan does want to kiss Eddie again. Not only to ease the last of his uncertainty and worry about Stan- if he’s being honest, no one could kiss the worry out of Eddie, but he can sure as hell try- but to feel Eddie’s skin on his, to feel like he’s grounded on his feet, in his own hands, in his own head. 

And Eddie is shining up at him with such soft admiration, it makes Stan’s chest ache slightly, so he pulls Eddie in by his waist and connects their lips. 

And Stan was right. It does make him feel like he’s in his own body. Eddie’s lips on his give him feeling in his entire face. Eddie’s hands on him, on his sides, on his face and neck make him positively warm all over. 

Eddie pulls apart their lips and Stan likes the soft wet sound it makes. 

“You know,” Eddie starts, tracing his hand up Stan’s chest, “Richie may be being a total idiot right now, but-“ 

And Stan wanted to hear what the hell he was talking about, but there’s a quiet rap on the door. 

“Stan? Eddie? You guys okay?” It’s Beverly. She tentatively opens the door and peers inside. “How’s the damage?” She asks, and if Stan listens and reads her voice, which he does very well, especially with his partners, she almost sounds guilty. 

“He’s fine. Nothing’s broken or anything, but we’ll keep it wrapped for a week or two.” 

She sighs in relief. Stan was right. Definitely guilty. 

“That’s good to hear.” She sets her hand on his chest. 

“As long as he doesn’t play hero again.” Beverly hums. Her face changes, then. Her eyes seem more hooded than before, and they gleam up at him. 

“I think it was pretty sexy.” 

Maybe Stan isn’t as good at reading people as he originally thought, because this is nowhere  _ near _ what he assumed was going on in her head. Maybe Richie’s. 

_ Is that what Eddie was going to say? _

Her fingers walk up his chest, and she licks her bottom lip, smiling up at him crookedly. “We all do.” 

Stan just stares at her, confused out of his mind. 

He hears Eddie hum in agreement as he moves to Beverly’s side. 

“Heroism  _ does _ look good on him.” 

_ Heroism? _

“What doesn’t?” 

And Stan feels heat rise in his cheeks at that, at the compliment she so effortlessly gives him. Is he _blushing_? He doesn’t _blush_. Maybe it’s the adrenaline preventing him from controlling his physical reactions like he usually can. If there’s any left. 

It’s so strange, because he’s used to getting compliments from his partners. He doesn’t understand why this time is any different. 

Beverly laughs, but not in a mocking way. It’s light and kind, almost quietly to herself. 

“Stanley, are you  _ embarrassed? _ ” 

“No.” He replies immediately. He doesn’t get  _ embarrassed _ and  _ he doesn’t blush _ . His automatic response doesn’t sound convincing, and Beverly quirks an eyebrow at Eddie. 

“Not embarrassed, then. Something else?” 

He doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t ask again in the silence. 

“Maybe we should express our gratitude,” Eddie chimes in, “for having a brave protector willing to fight for us.” The look on Beverly’s face shows that she most definitely agrees. 

Stan was correct in assuming Eddie was going to swoon under the shadow of a single god damn punch. He’s easy like that. 

The two of them share a look, one that Stan knows well because he’s used it on the others on many occasions. Most such occasions include the sexual torture of one Richie Tozier by him and one other lucky Loser. He figures he’s in for something of that sort. 

And he won’t lie, he’s nervous. Not in a ‘oh what are they going to do to me?’ way, because he can handle whatever these two throw at him, he’s certain of  _ that _ . He’s sure he’s taught them everything they know, really. No, his gut twists in a ‘something is off about this’ way, like he doesn’t deserve it. 

Maybe the reason Stan isn’t feeling this role play is because of how unrealistic it feels. He doesn’t think he could ever be a hero, a fighter, a protector. He doesn’t think he’s ever been particularly brave, or shown any outstanding courage to warrant such affections and praises. And he definitely doesn’t conclude that this single punch created any more such heroism in him than was already there, which, Stan  _ knows _ , wasn’t much to begin with. 

Yeah, maybe that’s the reason he stops Beverly before she tries to undo his belt buckle. 

“Bev-“ 

“If you say ‘no payment is necessary, ma’am’, I’ll fucking kill you.” And Stan exhales sharply at that in a breathless laugh. 

“No, I- well it’s  _ not _ .” 

“I know that, okay?” 

He must not look convinced, because she continues with a stern look. 

“Look, Stan. I  _ know _ that you  _ know _ that I’m not a helpless damsel in distress, alright? You know I can take care of myself and ward off anyone that I wanted to.” Her hands slide up from his belt onto his abdomen. “But, I’m grateful that you’re all around for things like that, too, that I have people who will protect me come hell or high water.” She smiles slyly. “That I have six strong men to beat up whoever I need them to.” He laughs then, and so does Eddie. 

“I am serious, though. I’m not doing this because I feel obligated to ‘repay you’ or something stupid like that.” She uses real air quotes. “I’m doing it because I love you, and I’m grateful you’re in my life. Got it?” 

Okay, he’s blushing. Call the news stations, contact the press, scream it from the rooftops, Stanley Uris is  _ blushing _ . His cheeks are red from simple praise. Like he’s Eddie or something. 

He wants to say ‘ _ I love you, too _ ’, but he thinks if he tries, he’ll embarrass himself. He doesn’t think the words will come to him. 

“And, I’m not going to lie, it was hot.” Eddie hums and nods in agreement. She points to the bathroom door. “All of us out there were talking about how hot it was. I’m honestly scared they’re all going to barge in here and try to steal you from me.” 

“I’ll hide in the shower.” 

She chuckles lightly, and Stan relaxes at the sound. He still doesn’t feel quite like a hero of sorts, but he doesn’t feel as guilty anymore, not with the adoration Bev is showing him right now. 

She fiddles with the hem of his collared shirt. 

“Alright?” 

Stan nods. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She untucks his shirt all the way around, her fingers grazing his skin. When it’s free, she uses it to pull them flush against each other. And when her soft lips meet his, Stan exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Beverly always has such soft lips. They’re smooth and firm and he can taste her glossy tinted lip balm. 

_ Cherries _ . His favorite. She has a strawberry one and an orange one, but he likes the cherry one best. The bitter and the sweet. 

His hands slide to her waist, feeling, touching. The fabric of her skirt is soft against his hands. It’s light, enough that he can feel the heat of her body underneath it. 

She smiles against his lips, her fingers dipping into his waistband and tracing teasingly along his pelvic bone and hips. 

He feels Eddie move suddenly, next to him, behind him. And then Beverly is pushing him against the sink counter, in between Eddie’s legs, and he realizes that Eddie had moved to sit on the sink. His thighs are thick and warm against Stan’s sides. They press into him slightly, but Stan wishes Eddie would choke him with them, squeeze the breath out of him from his stomach. 

Beverly breaks the kiss, and laughs at him because his brows are furrowed in confusion. 

Instead of doing any explaining at all, she moves her hands to delicately undo his belt. He can’t do much about it, because from behind him, Eddie undoes the top buttons on Stan’s collared shirt. He feels Eddie’s hands slide down his side, before grabbing at the hem of his shirt, and pulling, a signal that Stan understands. He allows it to be lifted over his head. Eddie tosses it carefully on the counter, not quite folding it, but neatly placing it, and Stan is grateful for that. 

As Beverly is undoing the zipper on his pants- he didn’t even register his belt being pulled from the loops-, he feels Eddie breathing hotly down his neck. Since he has  _ some _ control over himself, he resists the urge to tip his head back against Eddie’s shoulder and make any such embarrassing noises that might come from him. 

Eddie’s teeth graze his skin carefully, like he’s trying to tease Stan. His pants hit the floor, and he doesn’t bother to step out of the because at the exact moment that Beverly cups him through his briefs, Eddie sinks his teeth into Stan’s neck  _ viciously _ , and yeah, okay, he’s definitely hard now. 

The sting of the bite feels exquisite, the pain making his head fuzzy. Yet, he still does not allow a single sound to escape his tightly sealed lips. 

Beverly seems dissatisfied with his silence. She leans up to kiss him, parting his lips with her own. Her hand moves on him again, rubbing firmly on his sensitive skin. He wants to touch her, too, wants to undress her, wants to feel her skin against his, to make her feel good. But then Eddie bites him again, somehow harder than before, and since Beverly is occupied with his lips, he can’t stop himself from moaning into her mouth. 

Oh, she seemed very pleased by that. Stan can tell by the way her hand doesn’t stop palming at his clothed cock, or how the corners of her lips turn up against his own, or the pleased sigh he feels in his mouth from hers. 

With that breath, he can really taste her. The sweetness of strawberry and the bitterness and sharpness of tequila on his tongue. And something so distinctly  _ Beverly _ that he can’t quite name, but he knows it when he tastes it. 

All of them have a taste like this, one that Stan can remember and place easily to each of them. He can’t explain any of them at all, not even a little. If he said that Beverly tasted a little sweet like fruit, his logical brain would tell him he’s completely wrong, that she tastes nothing like fruit at all. And when he decides she tastes nothing like fruit, his brain will then tell him that of  _ course _ she tastes like fruit, it’s  _ Beverly _ , of  _ course _ she tastes sweet. It’s the same with the rest of them. 

He’s been through the mental process so many times that he doesn’t bother thinking about it anymore. 

And honestly, he can’t right now anyway. Not when Eddie sucks lightly at the bite marks he’s made on Stan’s neck. Not when Beverly’s skilled fingers slip inside his briefs, and threaten to make him embarrass himself once more with how well she strokes his hard cock. Or how well she kisses him, keeping his lips open so he can’t prevent himself from moaning. 

Which he does, quite loudly, when she bites at his bottom lip and at the same time thumbs over the head of his cock. He almost chokes it off, but Eddie’s deft fingers tug on his curls at the nape of his neck and the moan escapes his lips anyways. 

It’s wet in his briefs now, almost sticky as her hand strokes him over and over. He thinks, it would be embarrassing to come like this, but so satisfying and so good that it doesn’t really matter. 

Eddie’s nails rake up his sides, leaving harsh red lines in their wake. Stan pulls back from the kiss and lets out a shaky breath. Beverly kisses his cheek, murmuring against his skin. 

“Do you like that, Stan?” 

And Stan swears, if he opens his mouth right now, it’s not words that will come out. How can there be? With Beverly’s hand on him and Eddie fucking knawing on neck and ear. 

“Are you gonna come?” 

He huffs, feeling his knees weaken, and he prays they’ll keep him standing. Beverly’s voice is low and sultry, and he can’t help but let his lips turn up, because he knows exactly where she learned to talk like that. 

He just can't believe his own tricks would betray him like this. 

If he was anyone else, her hand would be too dry to make him come just yet. But he likes the raw pain that comes with it, after awhile. The dry discomfort that makes his skin tingle with arousal. 

Eddie yanks on his curls again, tilting his head to the other side so he can sink his teeth in the untouched skin. The first bite has one of his knees shaking violently, and his harsh breathing is very noticeably loud now. 

But Eddie's lips don’t stay on him for long. He removes them after the first bite, and Stan doesn’t feel them return to his skin. He hears a soft wet noise beside his ear, and he slightly turns to watch Eddie and Beverly share a kiss that has quite a lot of tongue involved. 

Eddie murmurs against her lips, “I think he’s getting close.” His nails scratch lightly on Stan’s scalp, and Beverly hums, nipping Stan’s shoulder. 

“Are you, Stan?” Her lips trail up his neck, the softest skin to skin touch. “Are you close?” 

Stan swallows thickly, breathing harshly through his nose. Eddie chuckles breathlessly. 

“Is that a ‘ _ yes _ ’?” 

Even if he wanted to, Stan doesn’t respond. He can’t, because Beverly’s fingers move faster over his cock and Eddie grips his hair so tightly that all he can do is let his mouth hang open in a silent moan. 

He doesn’t stop himself anymore. His head tips back against Eddie’s shoulder, his body leaning against the counter. He can feel every clothed inch of Eddie now, along his back. He’s hard, Stan can tell by the way Eddie’s hips rut against him when he leans back. Eddie tips his head back with a firm hand under Stan’s jaw, so he can bite around the front of his throat, too. 

“Come on, Stan.” Beverly’s voice is so enticingly sweet yet commanding. He’d do anything she asked of him. “I want you to come.” 

His hips buck, at that, and the two of them continue to murmur such things to him. 

“You’re so brave and strong.”

“Won’t you come for us?” 

And, fuck, he wants to. Stan wants to come but he needs something and he doesn’t know exactly what it is. He can’t focus for a single second to think about it. 

Until Eddie’s fingers squeeze the sides of his throat, cutting off his breathing and, oh that was  _ definitely _ the something, because a flash of heat curls inside his gut and he comes with Beverly stroking him and Eddie choking him with a steady grip. 

When Eddie releases his throat, he takes an enormous gulp of air into his lungs. His breaths are shaky and rushed, and he tries to slow down his heart rate. He doesn’t usually let it get this fast, he’s usually able to control his bodily reactions with more precision. However, tonight he found himself a little out of sorts. 

When he does slow it, he realizes, with disgust and discomfort, that his briefs are now sticky against his skin. 

He didn’t realize he had been gripping the sink counter so tightly either, until he lets go, and the soreness spreads instantly throughout his hands. He flexes them, and his uninjured hand feels much better after the movement. 

Beverly smiles crookedly at him, definitely satisfied with herself. 

“Feel better?” Instead of responding, he kisses her soundly. She makes a noise of surprise against his lips. 

“I love you.” He murmurs sincerely, and she snorts. 

“Good.” She raises her hand. “Cuz now my hand is dirty.” 

Stan hears Eddie gag right next to his ear. Beverly’s eyes light up at the sound, and she moves her hand slowly towards him, wiggling her fingers teasingly. 

“Don’t  _ fucking _ touch me.” Eddie moves to his other shoulder, trying to use Stan as a shield. “That’s  _ disgusting _ .” 

She laughs. 

”Whatever, you big baby.” 

“I’m a  _ baby _ because I don’t want Stan’s jizz on me?” 

“Oh, but you’ll have it  _ in _ you?” 

“That’s  _ different _ .  _ Get that away from me! _ ” 

Eddie throws something at her, and it takes Stan a moment to realize it’s his shirt. He catches it before she can use it.

“That’s  _ mine _ .” He asserts with venom, but Eddie doesn’t seem to acknowledge his disgust. 

“She needs to wipe it with  _ something! _ ” 

“Not my _fucking_ _shirt_.” 

“Boys, please.” 

Stan almost laughs at how quickly they cease bickering. 

“Now, come on.” She pats Stan’s side. “I’m not the only one who wants a piece of you.” 

Stan huffs. 

“They can wait. I can’t just come whenever people tell me to. I’m not a pushover like Eddie.” 

“Hey!” 

“Knock it off, Stan. Come on.” 

He dresses, slipping his shirt back on and buttons his pants. Beverly waits for him, while Eddie leaves them in the bathroom. She takes Stan’s hand, and they walk out to the living room where everyone else is. 

Richie and Mike are sitting on the floor at the glass coffee table. They seem to be playing cards.  _ Seem, _ because Stan knows for a  _ fact  _ that Richie is terrible at all card games, and he likes to make up rules on the spot. Mike is nice enough to probably play along with it, though. Stan pities him immensely. 

Richie immediately looks up when they enter the room, a knowing smile plastered on his face. Stan fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

Bill, Ben, and Eddie are seated on the couch, Ben in the middle, and Eddie resting his head lightly on Ben’s shoulder. Bill has his arm on the back of the cushioned seat, turned towards Ben. 

“How’s the damage, knight in shining armor?” Richie teases, and Mike elbows him softly with a quiet  _ ‘Rich’ _ . 

“It’s fine.” He answers Richie anyway, even though Stan knows he’s joking. He wants to be able to reassure everyone that he’s fine, so he raises his wrapped hand, moving his fingers lightly. “Just some bruising.” 

“Aw, that’s too bad. Scars are sexy.” There’s a collective groan from about four of them, but a hum of agreement from the rest. Stan can’t tell who made which noise. 

“Rich, please.” Ben sighs. That’s one figured out. He looks at Stan with worry in his eyes. “You sure you’re okay? You could have been really hurt.” 

Before he can answer, for the thousandth time, that he’s  _ fine _ , Beverly speaks up. 

“He’s fine, guys.” 

“Stop asking if I’m okay. I promise I’m fine. I can save plenty of other damsels in distress, don’t worry.” He says it, completely and utterly, as a joke. There was no sincerity in his voice whatsoever. It was obviously not true in any sense of the word, but then. Then, something happens. 

A strange silence follows. 

Stan watches Mike peek up at Richie across the small table, who half smiles and peeks back. His blue eyes slide to Eddie, who is also trying not to smile with fidgeting thighs. Ben’s face seems to have darkened slightly, and Bev is biting her lip. Stan puts the pieces together. 

“It’s like you all have a hero complex or something.” 

There’s a millisecond of quiet, and Stan’s actually worried he made it worse, until the room is filled with laughter. 

Beverly laughs behind her hand, looking at Stan apologetically. Ben hides his face in his hands, his shoulder shaking from laughter, while Eddie buries his face in one of them. 

Richie wipes a fake tear from his eye while Mike gathers the cards on the table. 

“Okay, you got us. We  _ might _ have a complex. Don’t lie, you have it too. You can’t even be mad, Stanny.” Stan can’t help but smile. 

“At least I’m in on it.” He gestures towards Bill, who has the cutest, most confused look on his face. 

Richie falls over clutching his stomach with punched out laughter. 

Bill’s face reddens. 

“Wh-what?!” 

“Nothing.” Stan sits on the arm of the couch, and sets his hand on Bill’s shoulder. He leans down and gives Bill a soft kiss. “Don’t worry about it.” 

And later, when they’re all squished around the coffee table, trying to keep track of Richie’s ridiculous, made up rules- ‘ _ if you pull this card, you have to put it in your shirt, and keep it there the whole round _ ’ ‘ _ Richie what the fuck this is poker you have to use all your cards _ ’- Stan looks around the table and thinks he might never be a hero, but,

‘ _ They make me brave enough to try’  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
